


We are the Fire (We See how they Run)

by Xyriath



Series: Who Are You, Really? [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Academy Era, Dubcon ish warnings?, M/M, Medical Torture, Soul Bond, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Staying away from Jim Kirk was never an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are the Fire (We See how they Run)

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [This String is Moving Your Bones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1239160). Part two of three.

Leonard's dreams were full of cold blue eyes and flashing white teeth.

He had tried—and mostly succeeded—in curbing his desire for intimacy with Jim Kirk. Not just sexually—that wasn't something he needed to worry about; there was no amount you could pay him to hop into bed with Jim Kirk after what he had seen happen to those who did—but emotionally. He was smart. He didn't have to learn his lesson about opening up to Jim Kirk.

Still, they had grown as close as was safe at the Academy. And while it wasn't wise to make yourself vulnerable around Jim Kirk, it wasn't wise to make yourself an enemy, either. Not with the infamy Jim was earning himself, in direct opposition to conventional wisdom.

All the reading in the world couldn't have told Leonard how downright _difficult_ it was to resist the draw of a soulmate, and it didn't help that Jim Kirk was a hell of a human being. But even if he refused to suborn himself, to acknowledge their link, he couldn't deny that the two of them were inextricably intertwined, for better or for worse.

And yes, Jim suffered for it at times, at the hand of professors who thought he was too uppity. And he always came back to Leonard after, not seeming to care how painful the treatment was, or what sneering remarks it might get him. By necessity it was a cruel friendship, but it was a friendship nonetheless, and certainly close by academy standards. And Leonard benefitted from it as well: for every professor who hated Jim, there was one who saw the potential barely contained within his skin, and when you stayed around someone like that, you didn't escape notice.

From anyone, really. He could face the stares from fellow students as he walked to the right of Jim Kirk, the considering look in the faculty's eyes when they thought he wasn't looking, the brass actually sparing him a glance. Rarely, but it happened.

But most noticeably of all was Jim. He didn't bother to hide it the way others did, and with increasing frequency through the years, Leonard would feel a prickling down his spine. Whether he turned or not, he knew exactly what he would find: Jim Kirk, having slowed down for a rare minute or three to watch him intently, the slightest of humorless smiles on his face but otherwise unreadable.

Leonard always shoved down the anxiety that bubbled up in his gut when this happened. If Jim knew, Leonard would know.

—

When Jim Kirk shows up at your medical clinic in the middle of the night with a grin full of bloody teeth and a body in tow, you let him in.

Leonard's lip curled at the sight—it was always a pain, disposing of bodies—but after a moment, he saw that the man was still bleeding, and the cybernetics in his eye registered a heartbeat. Alive, then.

"What the hell do _you_ want?"

Jim dropped the body in the empty room. It was where they had first met, the one with the restraint chair. No one ever bothered Leonard there.

"Fucker attacked me. Him and a few of his friends. They're in even worse shape than he is."

With a jolt, Leonard's mind skipped back to earlier this evening, remembering the sudden punch of terror and _rage_ that had come out of nowhere. The cadet he had been treating had been slightly annoying, but not especially deserving of the treatment through which Leonard had subsequently put him. He was still finding spots of blood he had missed after cleaning himself off.

Of course, this simply increased his irritation. "Well, you probably deserved it," he snapped, dragging the bloody man onto the table anyway, snapping the restraints into place. "What did you do to this one?"

Leonard felt Jim's hand clamp like a vise on the back of his neck, a mockery of a friendly gesture—and it would have been one, if it hadn't been for the painful force behind it. Still, the nearly manic glint in Jim's eyes remained unchanged.

"That's the thing, Bones. I didn't." When Leonard snorted his disbelief, the pressure on the back of his neck increased. " Credit where credit is due, but this wasn't me." He scoffed. "And here I thought you knew me."

Leonard suppressed a shudder at the contact, made more difficult by the fact that Jim's thumb had begun stroking up and down his neck. The exact motivation behind the shudder… well, he wasn’t quite sure. He squared his shoulders and stepped forward, out of Jim's grasp, making sure the unconscious man was secure.

"Well, whatever. What's it you want from me?"

Jim pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers. "To know _why_ , Bones, to know _why_ they tried this. And who better to find it out than you?" The glint had turned into a gleam, and Leonard was caught in its intensity. His breath caught as the gears in his head whirled. Jim was half-terrifying when he was like this, but the other half left Leonard entranced. Fascinated.

And—he might know just the thing.

—

The man's screaming ripped through the air before his eyes were even fully open.

Leonard let out a soft, pleased sigh as he set the syringe aside. He turned to look at Jim, pride and something that was almost affection in his expression, hoping to see that he had earned a smile at least. The face that looked back at him was impassive, however, eyes narrowed just slightly in Leonard's direction.

"Show me what it does before you get a pat on the head, Bones."

Leonard could _feel_ the skepticism coming from his other ha—from the other _cadet_ , and shoved the sensation aside.

"This," Leonard began, voice dropping into the croon as he addressed the man, adjusting the IV intake slightly, just enough to paralyze the man's vocal cords for a minute or two, "is something I've been working on."

The man fell silent, and Leonard continued. "You'll notice you're in excruciating pain. That's normal. It won't cause any lastin' harm." He paused, studying the man's face. It had contorted with agony, mouth open in a silent scream. "At least, as far as I know. Still testin' it out. Guess we've gone to human trials faster'n I thought. Anyway." He adjusted the IV again. The vocal cord paralysis was wearing off, but there was no more screaming, only gasping.

"And now, you'll notice you're not." His lips curved upwards. "As long as you answer my questions, we'll keep you like this. "If you don't…"

Another adjustment to the IV, and screaming filled the air again.

A surge of pride suddenly filled his chest, once again, not his own, but this made him smile. He turned and saw it reflected in Jim's eyes, a matching smirk on his face.

Those eyes met his, though, and Jim's expression froze and faded. The pride faded from Leonard's chest with it, replaced with an icy feeling that Leonard couldn't quite place.

He swallowed and turned back to the man.

"Now tell us what you know."

—

"It was _Pike_." Jim's breathless voice echoed in the room, their prisoner once again sedated and unconscious beside them. "They want _him_. Him and anyone who's too close to him. It's a fucking coup." His eyes were wide again, burning with determination—and now, anger.

"Too close to him?" Leonard's tone was flat. He knew he shouldn't have said anything, knew that it would just come across as overly concerned in a way that he did not want to, but it had slipped out before he could stop it.

"Why, Bones?" He was grinning again, mouth not as bloody but teeth still faintly red. "You jealous?"

Leonard snorted and rolled his eyes. "Plea—" he began, fully intending to shoot the notion down, but Jim's grip on his chin cut him off in surprise, and the feeling of Jim's lips crashing into his wiped the thought from his head.

And it _was_ a crash, not a kiss. There was nothing pleasant or tender about it, just a possessive, painful press of his mouth against Leonard's, the faint coppery taste of Jim's blood oddly appropriate for what Leonard had expected kissing Jim to be like. Leonard stiffened, knowing he should yank away, _needed_ to yank away, but something more than Jim's vices of fingers kept him there.

Pain suddenly lanced through his bottom lip, and the taste of blood went from faint to overwhelming. Jim yanked back, a smudge on his lower lip, and Leonard's tongue darted out to feel his own. Blood was welling at the spot where Jim's teeth had marked him.

Jim laughed, making a show of slowly licking Leonard's blood from his lip.

"Don't worry, Bones. He doesn't taste nearly as good."

Leonard just gritted his teeth, looking back to their unconscious prisoner. He jumped when Jim clapped his shoulder, a bit harder than was necessary.

"This is it. This is what we need."

And that was how Jim Kirk walked over a pile of bloody bodies, Leonard following close behind, straight into the captaincy of the Enterprise.


End file.
